Family Ties
by Umbra Creatura
Summary: UNFINISHED Rated T for now. A noname kid down on his luck gets tangled up in some family business. R&R so I know if anyone wants me to finish this it'll be a long, slow process otherwise.
1. Another Day, Another Dollar

He stood on the corner, shivering from the cold. The rain poured down, dripping from his face. He could barely make out the bar across the street through the storm. The dimly lit neon sign for Leon's was perhaps the most welcoming sight he'd seen all day.

The boy ran into the alley where the front door stood, limping slightly from the injury he sustained in the fight this morning. Ducking under the awning, he pulled out a wallet and counted the contents. Fifty bucks -- not bad. It was enough for a meal, and that was his main focus.

Flipping through the wallet, his eyes came to rest on the photo ID in the middle. The ID inside the wallet read "Sharon McCain". She was a blue-eyed blond, 5'6", 135 lbs. She lived out of state. The kid rubbed the bruise on his shoulder -- she had apparently taken some classes in self defense. There were some emergency aspirin tucked in a zipper pouch -- hopefully, she wouldn't need these anytime soon.

He opened the door, and headed straight for the bar. He had been out on his own for a year or so now, but things never seemed to get any easier. It was hard enough getting money to eat a decent meal, and he hadn't slept in more than a shabby cot since he left home. His clothes were rags -- his jeans were nothing but threads from the shin down and his leather jacket had several patches sewn on. He was saving up for something decent, but for now he just needed a beer.

The bar tender passed him his usual -- there weren't any cops at the moment, so there was no need for the formalities of a fake ID. As the boy sat on the stool drinking, a loud roar of drunken laughter and cheering issued from the pool table. Some broad had just slaughtered the reigning champ. He paused to look, then turned back to his drink, staring at the murky liquid.

A cheerful, feminine voice sounded out next to him. "So, what did you think?" He jerked his head up to face the person now sitting next to him. She had long, silky red hair and shiny green eyes. She was wearing a black leather dress outfit along with boots and arm-length gloves to match. He'd seen her around several times before, but they'd never spoken. "Well? You saw it, didn't you?"

Her voice snapped him back to reality. "Yeah -- you really cleaned up today, ma'am!" She gave him an amused look. "Ma'am?! I'm not that old!" Indeed, she was only in her early twenties. "C'mon, you know me . . . right?", she said, grinning slyly.

Of course he knew her. Everybody knew Lady Red. She was a "made lady", and one of Tommy Vindeni's gang. She was the leader of the Red Coon Clan -- a "subculture" of Tommy's gang. Tommy had full run of the city now that they'd beaten Venom's gang clean out of Los Angeles. Lady Red was rumored to have single-handedly taken on at least ten of Venom's boys. The boy could hardly believe she was speaking to him.

He stuttered a bit, "Yeah, you're Lady Red -- right?" She grinned, nodding approval. She examined him for a while, then said "Hey, you don't happen to have a "family" -- do you?" She didn't skip a beat when he shook his head. "You know, I'm goin' out with some of the boys tonight. We're lookin' to stir things up a bit. You should come along -- it'll be fun." She handed him a small envelope, sealed with the red raccoon face known as her calling card. A tall, lanky man in a pinstripe suit came stumbling over to them. "Hey, Red --it's time to go," he slurred out the words, clearly drunk.

She whispered to him; "Think about it -- tonight, 9:30, meet us at the park." As they walked out the door, she turned and winked.


	2. What's Mine Is Yours

The boy was still turning everything over in his mind when he left the bar an hour later. He stared blankly at the sealed envelope for a moment before stuffing it into a concealed pocket inside his jacket. He still had some time to pull himself together for the evening ahead. 

The rain was still coming down pretty strong, so he figured the best thing to do was find some shelter and rest up for a couple of hours. He began heading towards the rundown apartment he had spent the last month squatting in -- a severely aged two-story building that had been scheduled for demolition due to safety concerns.

He picked the lock to the front door, and opened it slowly. He paused in the doorway to sigh before locking it again behind him. "What a dump," he thought to himself. The sunlight barely touched the main hallway, but the wind and rain managed to eek in through cracks in the ceiling. It gave the building all the charm of a dungeon. He proceeded down the dim hall, stumbling into a previously unnoticed puddle of water. "Gah --!!" He splashed through the hallway, drenching his socks. He arrived at what he designated as "his" room.

A rat scurried away as he entered the room, leaving the door ajar. He chided to himself, "Great, new neighbors. And here I was just starting to get used to Mr. Cucaracha's family next door. Must be the rain . . . " He occupied the only room in the whole building that was still partially livable. The door still worked, the ceiling was in one piece and the windows were still intact. The atmosphere however left much to be desired. A large portion of the wall plaster had been chipped away along one wall, exposing the moldy support beams beneath that were riddled with termites.

His army green sleeping bag lay in one corner of the room, with an off-white pillow resting on top. Just as he was about to curl up in the covers, he heard some muffled voices conversing. He hobbled over to the window, and saw several large figures approaching the door. He threw his pillow in the sleeping bag, slinging it over one shoulder. He shuffled across the hall, locking himself in a unit on the backside of the building. As he hurried to open the window, he could hear someone fiddling with the front door.

He burst from the building as if he had been held underwater, landing in the mud outside with a soft plop. This was immediately followed by the loud bang of the front door being thrown open. The boy knelt down, pressing himself into the wall under the windows ledge. He began to work his way around the back of the building. The figures now inside the building began to talk. He could barely make out what they were saying over the sound of the rain beating down around him.

"You think this place will work?" The voice was deep and gruff. It sounded more like asphalt being poured down a tumbler than somebody talking.

"Don't see why not. Front door works. It's got a second story. As long as the stairwell checks out, I'm sure the Don will be happy." A much softer voice responded. "Hey, Carl -- go check the stairs, will ya'?" A few seconds later came a quiet splash, followed by loud swearing from Carl and a round of laughter.

At this point, the boy had snuck over to the part of the building that supported the stairwell. With no windows to see him from, it was the safest place possible. He took off running as fast as he could without making too much noise. After he had gained a safe distance, he paused to gain his bearings.

The sun had just begun to set. He had no clue what time it was, but he sure didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with Lady Red. After giving it some thought, he set off in the direction of the park.


End file.
